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In recent years, film translations of stage hits haven't been as prevalent as they once were. You might get the occasional "Doubt" or "Rabbit Hole," for instance, but compared to the early days of the talkies, when a large proportion of movies were based on Broadway hits, it's been slim pickings; audiences and critics have learned that most attempts at stage-to-screen translation fail to make the material truly cinematic.

If you thought that “Knocked Up” was too mature a take on impending fatherhood, then “Babymakers” just might be the movie for you. Directed by Jay Chandrasekhar, it follows the comical misadventures of a husband who is reluctant to discover whether or not his sperm is “confused” – and if so, how he’ll handle getting his wife pregnant. Marginally more sophisticated than Chandrasekhar’s efforts with the comedy troupe Broken Lizard, “Babymakers” starts off solidly before getting sidetracked by set pieces that take over the entire narrative – and ultimately reveal how little of one there was in the first place.

Curiously squandering an immensely talented cast, Todd Rohal's "Nature Calls," written when the writer-director lived in Austin, had more humor and humanity and life in its 10-minute post-screening talk here at SXSW than it showed in its previous 98-minute running time. Starring Patton Oswalt and Johnny Knoxville as brothers -- in clear refutation of all we know about genetics -- "Nature Calls" pits Oswalt's dedicated scoutmaster, eager to take his scoutmaster father on one last camping trip, against Knoxville's black sheep son. You can imagine this premise leading to all kinds of hilarity.

Although at this point there are way too many stories about quirky man-children and the women who love them, “Safety Not Guaranteed” is an oddly effective little charmer. A film that harkens back to the magical-realism adventures of the 1980s rather than the twee dollhouse making of the last decade, Colin Trevorrow’s tale of a trio of journalists who investigate a personals ad from an oddball requesting a partner in a time-travel experiment is far more grounded, genuine, and moving than its conceit suggests. At the same time, there’s little that’s especially new or original about “Safety Not Guaranteed,” but it ekes out a victory over so much of its indie-darling competition simply by following through on the ideas it introduces.

The debate about fair vs one-sided portraits aside -- the narrative of which has dominated the political conversation side of things so far -- "Game Change," Jay Roach's HBO film about Sarah Palin's effect on the 2008 Republican campaign to elect John McCain, is, by and large, an absorbing and entertaining docu-drama-like account of this period in election history. It's also perhaps one of the most effective political cautionary tales to date, an evidential A-Z portrait of what not to do when trying to pick a running mate.

I know beating up on Eddie Murphy's latest disaster A Thousand Words is like kicking a dead horse. What's the point? It's suffered enough already. And yet it's like a guy with a "Kick Me" sign taped to his back. You just can't help yourself. You have to kick it

I flew into Austin Thursday on Southwest and sat in the first row right next to Angie Dickinson, who was accepting a Texas Hall of Fame award that night for the cast and crew of Howard Hawks' 1959 western "Rio Bravo."

I kicked off my SXSW Film adventure by running into my sidekick for the evening, fellow blogger, Dr. Goddess. Our SXSW Interactive panels were neighbors. I was on a mission to make it to the Alamo Drafthouse South Lamar for the debut of Matthew A. Cherry’s The Last Fall. Cherry has been incredibly open about the filmmaking process through his production blog and his Kickstarter and IndieGoGo campaigns. It was nice to be able to be there the night the film premiered.

Like the movies themselves, criticism has moved from analog to digital, a move that is not universally beloved. Reports of the death of criticism are greatly exaggerated. Countless times during my career criticism has been declared dead only to pop up its furry groundhog head to say, “I’m back!”
Here’s a piece I wrote for Variety that takes the temperature, blood pressure and checks other vital signs of criticism. I called diagnosticians such as Roger Ebert, Jeanine Basinger and Jim Hoberman for second, third and fourth opinions.
Thoughts? Where do you go for criticism?